


in a safe behind a painting.

by redhoods



Series: widofjord week 2019. [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naval Commander Fjord, Pining, Trans Male Character, Widofjord Week, archmage caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Placing the tray at the edge of the table, he spares a glance to the map as if he hadn’t been in this room at midday for a briefing. Nothing has changed, their enemy is still quickly approaching the coast. He shakes his head and glances away, “Caleb.”It takes a minute, then two, a page in a book turned, before Caleb lifts his face, blinking at him, “Commander,” and then remembers himself, adding, “Fjord,” softer.There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair has almost entirely fallen out of the tie he’d been using. Fjord clicks his tongue, “Eat,” he says quietly, gesturing to the tray he’s brought. It’s become familiar routine, to gently nudge Caleb away from his books and papers, marking his pages in his books.





	in a safe behind a painting.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just some nebulous hazy au with not much to the plot other than they’re pining and everyone knows it. i may have failed on the pining part a little bit though. don’t care, it’s soft, i’m happy. caleb is trans in this, it’s a passing mention.
> 
> for widofjord week 2019.
> 
> title from start a war by the national.

The hallway outside the war room is blessedly clear of guards when Fjord approaches the doors after dusk.

There wasn’t a guard in the keep that wasn’t a horrible gossip and the last thing he wanted was for them to see him approaching with a tray of food and think he’d gone soft or something. Gods, the teasing would be merciless and endless. 

As it is, he has gone soft.

He doesn’t bother knocking on the doors, knowing it will go unnoticed. The right door gives with a press of his foot and he uses his hip to bump it back closed once he’s inside the room.

It’s dimly lit inside, only candles to the far side of the large map table shedding flickering light over the lone figure, hunched over yet another book. If Fjord hadn’t seen the arrival of the several caches of books with his own two eyes, he would’ve thought the wizard conjured them out of nothing.

Placing the tray at the edge of the table, he spares a glance to the map as if he hadn’t been in this room at midday for a briefing. Nothing has changed, their enemy is still quickly approaching the coast. He shakes his head and glances away, “Caleb.”

It takes a minute, then two, a page in a book turned, before Caleb lifts his face, blinking at him, “Commander,” and then remembers himself, adding, “Fjord,” softer.

There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair has almost entirely fallen out of the tie he’d been using. Fjord clicks his tongue, “Eat,” he says quietly, gesturing to the tray he’s brought. It’s become familiar routine, to gently nudge Caleb away from his books and papers, marking his pages in his books.

Any protests that Caleb may make, token as they are now, fall on deaf ears.

“When was the last time you went outside?” He asks, gently chiding, as he arranges Caleb’s things the way he likes and doesn’t think about how he knows that arrangement now.

The only response he receives is the scrape of silverware, but it’s answer enough. They both know that Caleb only leaves this room at all is because Fjord and Beau had both put the fear of the gods into every single member of the keep staff and guard, forewarning them.

Nothing that can be used as bedding is allowed within three yards of the war room doors, even if brought there by the Archmage himself. And, gods, has he tried. Fjord’s been accosted by frazzled servants twice in the last month about Caleb trying to sneak a bedroll in. It’s like the wizard still hasn’t learned that the servants see everything eventually.

At least the servants aren’t a bunch of gossips ilke the guard.

He leans against the table next to Caleb’s seat, watching him eat, “Join me for a walk outside?” 

Caleb glances at him over his goblet of water, scrutinizing. Fjord’s expecting to have to cajole and convince him to leave the room and his work, but Caleb lowers the cup and nods, “Alright, ja, I will,” he says evenly, ducking his head back down to his food.

Nodding, Fjord carefully doesn’t look back at the map as he waits for Caleb to finish.

His part is done, there’s nothing left for him to do except wait for word to reach their fleet and trust their captains to do their parts. Caleb’s work, however, is practically unceasing and Fjord has seen the wizard work himself to exhaustion too many times in the last eight months.

The scraping of the chair away from the table draws his attention back to present and Fjord takes the tray as he pushes himself off the edge of the table, “Don’t think I missed how you turned lunch away,” he says as Caleb pulls his outer robes on. 

“Stress wanes my appetite,” Caleb tells him quietly, walking by his side to the doors.

“It’s a wonder you ever eat then,” Fjord replies evenly, lifting an eyebrow at the wizard, though Caleb won’t meet his eye and forces his attention on opening the door. He huffs at Caleb’s back, following him into the hallway, “Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up anymore. For tonight, anyways.”

They walk side by side through the halls in the vague direction of the kitchens, only passing very few people on the way. Not a single one of them pay Fjord or Caleb any mind.

Close to the kitchens, Fjord catches a servant, “Mira, right? Would you mind taking this to the kitchens? The chef will flay me alive if she sees me in there again tonight,” he tells her with a grin.

She takes the tray and cuts an eye between he and Caleb, “Of course, Commander,” she leans in a little, “Perhaps if you’d stop coming in after dinner and instead drag this one out to dinner,” she flicks her gaze to Caleb, then adds, “Sir,” before she turns and hustles down the hall.

Fjord clears his throat and resists the urge to rub the back of his neck, not glancing at Caleb as he starts walking again.

They walk in silence for a while.

“I did not realize I was getting you into trouble with the staff,” Caleb says carefully, in that tone that means he’s blaming himself for something.

Fjord catches his elbow, pulling him out of the way of passing soldiers with their arms full, “Don’t,” he says lowly, once they’re alone again, “You’re worth the trouble, Caleb.”

Caleb makes a strange sound that Fjord doesn’t know how to parse, but before he can ask about it, they’re stepping out into the courtyard of the center of the keep. “Time really did slip away from me,” Caleb mumbles, head tipped back as he glances up to the sky.

It’s a clear night, cloud free sky expanding above them.

“Want to go up to the battlements?” Fjord suggests, because it’s quieter up higher, more air to breathe, and he knows Caleb likes that.

There’s no verbal answer, Caleb merely starts walking towards the stairs that will lead them up. They go to the same place every time they come up here, to the far corner on the southern side that looks out over the jungles that separate them from the ocean.

Fjord steps up to the parapet, bracing his arms on top of it, “If I start coming to get you for dinner on time, will you join me?”

Caleb is quiet, but his arm presses against Fjord’s when he moves up to the wall as well. It’s alright though, Fjord is well used to waiting out his silences while Caleb works to chose his words. There’s something about having worked together so closely that’s keyed him into so many aspects of Caleb’s personality.

Or maybe that’s just his own attention to the wizard. He’s not thinking about that now.

“I could be amenable to joining you,” Caleb says after a long stretch of silence, only broken up by the whistling of wind, “I cannot promise that I will be pleasant company.”

Fjord tips, shifts a little, pressing their sides more firmly together, “As long as you eat, I can handle your grumpy eyebrows,” he teases and doesn’t add that he can’t imagine Caleb ever not being pleasant company. No matter how much he’s griping.

He feels eyes on the side of his face, so he turns to meet Caleb’s searching gaze head on, eyebrow lifting like he’s daring the wizard to challenge him.

Caleb doesn’t rise to the challenge, actually smiles, something soft and fond. His cheeks are even pink when he ducks his head, tension loosening from his shoulders, “Alright.”

An urge wells up in Fjord, to press a kiss to the top of Caleb’s head, bt he swallows it back, instead turning his gaze out over the jungle. The ocean isn’t truly visible from here, only the hint of it on the horizon, but as much as he misses the open water, he’s glad he’s here now.

Wind whips through again and there’s no mistaking Caleb’s shiver against his side. “One of these days, the wind is just going to blow you away,” he says lowly and loops his arm around Caleb’s shoulder.

There’s nothing to prepare him for the way Caleb turns readily to his chest, the easy familiarity in the way Caleb wraps arms around his waist. His heart trips over itself in his chest and he hopes that Caleb can’t hear it. He slides his other arm around Caleb, squeezing the wizard gently.

A nose brushes his jaw, then lips, and Fjord breathes out quietly, tucking his face into Caleb’s hair.

“Thank you for taking care of me, liebling,” Caleb says against his jaw.

“Always,” Fjord replies and feels it deeply.

They stay like that for a while, Fjord doesn’t bother keeping track of time, but Caleb is the one to pull back, cheeks still very pink, “It’s getting very late.”

“It is,” he agrees quietly, meeting Caleb’s eyes. He’s deliberate about this, goes slow as he ducks in to press his lips to Caleb’s. He’s giving Caleb the chance to back off, to shove him away, to refute whatever this is. Caleb does none of those things, full of endless surprises, Caleb presses up onto his toes to meet him halfway.

The first kiss is chaste, just a gentle press, so is the second and the third.

The fourth is different because Caleb sinks his teeth into his lower lip and then licks into his mouth and Fjord is helpless but to allow it, doesn’t even bother swallowing back the soft whine that bubbles up in his throat.

Caleb is the one to withdraw, buffing a kiss to his jaw then the place where one of his tusks splits his lower lip. His cheeks are bright, his lips red and swollen, and all Fjord can think is ‘I did that’. He swallows back a hysterical sound that bubbles up, tucking his face against the wizard’s temple.

“We should go inside,” Caleb says eventually, because he’s far too reasonable about things that aren’t his eating habits.

Fjord hums and reluctantly pulls himself back. It is getting late and goodness knows the last time either of them had anything but an early morning. He doesn’t get far, not even three steps away, when a hand slides through his, long fingers tucking around his own. His hand feels large in comparison, clunky and calloused and scarred, but Caleb rests his head on his shoulder and any thought Fjord might have had about pulling away is gone.

The trek back to the keep is quiet and Fjord escorts Caleb all the way to the door of his quarters, leaving him with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

\---

As soon as he steps out of his quarters in the morning, not even fully dressed, Fjord’s immediately swept into a meeting about naval movements and their fleet and doesn’t get to see Caleb at all. There’s plenty of other pressing matters for him to focus on though, not leaving him much time to miss the wizard.

As if he hadn’t just seen him last night.

Beau corners him in the afternoon, when Fjord is dealing with fleet inventory, shoving her way onto the edge of his desk and staring at him until he puts his pen down and gives her his attention. She cocks her head at him, jaw tilting defiantly, “So.”

“So,” Fjord replies, lacing his fingers on his chest.

“I talked to Caleb today,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him now. It’s the protective sister thing she does when Caleb isn’t around to get embarrassed about it, Fjord’s long given up trying to understand their dynamic. “I was going to harp on him about eating and he told me to get in line.”

Fjord is proud of himself that he doesn’t fidget under her gaze, “Are you mad at me for making sure he eats?”

She doesn’t hit him, but he gets the distinct impression she wants to. Progress.

“There’s a rumor going around,” she carries on, like he hadn’t spoken, which is not at all unusual in that it happens at least once in every conversation they have, “about a certain Commander and a certain Archmage up on the battlements.”

He doesn’t swear, even though he really wants to. Progress.

Whatever look he’s got on his face gives him away though because Beau cracks, laughing uproariously.

He keeps waiting for her to tip off the edge of his desk, but she doesn’t. Heaving a sigh, he rubs his hand over his jaw, tweaks a claw over a tusk, and then drops his hands to his lap, “You done yet?”

She makes a show of wiping away tears that aren’t there and Fjord would physically toss her out of the room if he could, if she wouldn’t kick his ass before he even got the chance. Her face gets abruptly serious as she leans towards him, “If you hurt him, I will gut you and no one will ever find your body.”

There’s a moment where he wants to play it off, wants to joke, but instead he croaks out a, “I wouldn’t.”

Beau’s shoulders droop a little and she leans back with a huff, “I know, but it’s my job to threaten,” she says and buffs her nails on her shirt, “I already threatened Caleb.”

He opens and closes his mouth, tries to come up with something to say, but she drops off the desk and walks to the door, calling, “Practice safe sex!” on her way out. The book he throws hits the door two seconds to late and her laughter filters back even through the wood.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he gets up and fetches the book, before attempting to return to his work.

\------

When dinner time rolls around, proper dinner time, Fjord finds himself walking to the war room. There are guards there now and they glance at each other and back to him. The one on the left greets him with, “Commander,” and a nod, that he returns.

He lets himself into the room and reminds himself that he’s escorting Caleb to dinner and everyone is going to see them anyways. The guards can gossip all they’d like.

Caleb is in his usual spot, hunched over some books and scribbling furiously on parchment. He looks better this time though, no more dark circles, hair loose today around his face, “Let me finish writing out this thought and then I will join you, liebling,” he says, without glancing up.

Fjord knuckles away a smile from his lips and leans against the table next to him, packing away the rest of his materials quietly.

It doesn’t take long for Caleb to finish, sliding the cap onto his pen and the lid to the ink well back onto it. He leaves them both there as he stands and doesn’t quell under Fjord’s curious gaze either, stepping in close to bracket Fjord against the edge of the table, “Hallo.”

A quiet breath shudders out of him and he drops his hands to Caleb’s waist, “Hello.”

Caleb smudges a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then pulls back with the hint of a grin on his lips. “Hallo,” he says again, taking Fjord’s hand and tugging him away from the table to the door, “I’m famished.”

Surprise is a warm feeling that spreads down to his toes, especially when they pass back by the guards, the one that greeted him, greeting Caleb with a surprised, “Archmage,” and his hand isn’t released. Caleb actually twines their fingers together when they turn to the corner.

Fjord doesn’t even know what to do with himself, but let the wizard propel him on through the halls.

Almost to the kitchens, Caleb suddenly propels him sideways, turning on him and backing him around a corner, tucking him against the wall of an alcove. He presses all along Fjord’s front, up on his toes to press his lips to Fjord’s once, twice, three times, before muffling against his mouth, “I missed you today.”

“Oh,” he says dumbly.

Caleb laughs, not meanly, tucking his forehead against Fjord’s shoulder, “Is that too much to say?”

Fjord wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders, “No, I was just,” he swallows, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth, “I’d been thinking the same thing on the way to come get you.”

A soft kiss is pressed to his jaw and Fjord is glad for the wall propping him up.

Laughter and chatter bursts down the hall from the direction of the dining hall and Caleb withdraws slowly, grinning sheepishly, “We should carry on to dinner.”

“Probably,” Fjord agrees, reeling him back in for another kiss.

They separate slow and Caleb takes his hand once more as they continue to the dining hall.

\------

A week later, everything gets tossed awry.

Fjord’s on his way to a briefing in the war room, when he gets accosted by several of the other advisors from the naval branch. It’s a whirlwind of panic, a flurry of notes from their fleet about to shove off and head out to meet their enemy. Everyone’s talking to him all at once and Fjord whistles loudly to call their attention, “Alright, one person. Explain.”

“Deserters,” one of them blurts, one of the younger men that sort of puts him in mind of Caleb, but younger, unseasoned. Educated, but not experienced. When Fjord lifts an eyebrow, he rolls his shoulders back, “Several commanding officers disappeared in the night.”

The silence that hangs in the hallway is deafening.

“What are we doing about this then?” Fjord asks several long seconds.

Another of the advisors, this one was an older, gnarled sailor who often regalled the dining hall with sordid tales of their days on the open waters, “Morale is suffering before they even set sail, we need to get people out there that the men know they can trust,” they say, voice thick and slow.

Fjord rubs his jaw, feeling a headache burgeoning, “We’ve got to have people out there we can trust.”

“Aye, I know a few but...” they trail off, squinting at him.

It suddenly occurs to him, “Oh, I see.”

“Look, we know it’s not ideal -”

“Fjord,” the older sailor grabs him by the shoulder, shaking him a little, “The men trust and respect you. You deserve your rest just as much as the next sailor, but...”

He breathes out slowly, “I know, I know.”

\------

Caleb finds him in the stables, prepping his horse for the ride to the coast.

Neither one of them says anything for several long minutes, simply staring each other down with a negligible seven or so feet between them.

Fjord’s been biding his time, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Caleb before he left, but he still has nothing. He’s never been good with words and it would stupid to think he’d suddenly find the right ones in a couple of hours of panicked plan making and packing.

“Were you going to say goodbye?” Caleb spits suddenly, jaw tight and face red.

Fjord opens his mouth, splutters a little bit, “What? Of course, I was! Caleb -“

Caleb slams into him, full force, arms around his middle and nearly dumping him on his ass on the straw covered ground of the stables. His face presses into Fjord’s sternum, fingers twisting tight into the back of Fjord’s shirt.

Words still don’t come, so Fjord wraps around him, clings back. He tangles a hand in Caleb’s hair, fists his free hand in his robes, and realizes he’s shaking. Or Caleb is. One of them is shaking or maybe it’s both of them. Fjord tucks his face against the top of Caleb’s head, inhaling shaky lungfuls of his scent greedily,

No one comes to interrupt them, so they stay like that for a while.

Caleb is the first to move, tilting his head back but not pulling away. His eyes are damp and red and Fjord thumbs over his cheek gently, “I was trying to figure out what to say before I left.”

“How was that going?”

Fjord scrunches his nose at the wizard, “Not well, nothing seemed sufficient,” he answers. It’s true, but it’s not. There’d been plenty of sufficient words, the sorts of things that felt too soon, too close, too real. He’s scared that he’s going to ride out of this keep, ride away from Caleb, and that he’s not going to ride back. Or that if he does, Caleb won’t be waiting for him.

Caleb turns his head and brushes a kiss over Fjord’s palm, “Will you tell me anyways, liebling?”

“Tell you what?” He asks before he can stop himself, eyes fixed on the place where they’re touching, the contrast of green to pale pink.

“Any of the words you thought of,” Caleb’s voice is hushed, like he’s afraid of being overheard or maybe, more likely, afraid of spooking Fjord.

That’s a good fear to have, Fjord thinks, swallowing thickly. It takes him long seconds under Caleb’s bright gaze for words to bounce around his skull and find their way out, before he simply blurts, “I love you.”

Caleb blinks at him.

Fjord barrels on because he’s never been good at knowing when to stop once he’s gotten himself started, “I’m in love with you, Caleb, and I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to go to the coast, because that’s not where you are, and I don’t want to go to war either, because I might not come back. And I want to, I want to come back to you. I haven’t wanted anything in a long time, but I want you and your terrible eating habits and brilliant mind and fantastic kisses.”

He’s practically hyperventilating by the time he stops talking and Caleb’s eyes are watering and he’s definitely just fucked everything up.

“Fjord,” Caleb croaks out, after what feels like eons, “Fjord, stop looking at me like I’m about to hit you,” his hands come up, so he cups Fjord’s face.

Ink stained thumbs brush over his cheeks, the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, the scar through his eyebrow, the points of his tusks. Fjord feels too large for his skin and he’s trembling, shaking a part under Caleb’s gentle touches.

No one’s ever touched him like this and Caleb is staring at him like he’s perfectly aware of it.

“I love you too,” Caleb says and Fjord crumples forward, trapping Caleb’s hands between them, to kiss him.

Caleb has to gentle him, easing him back before pressing in again. It’s still a desperate, wild kiss, and by the time they break apart, Fjord’s lips feel swollen and raw and Caleb’s look it. Fjord touches his forehead to Caleb’s, heart rabbiting in his chest as he tries to get some semblance of control back over his own body.

“You’re going to come back to me,” Caleb breathes out then, voice firm and no nonsense, “You are, and you’re going to tell me that again and then...”

He waits for Caleb to finish, but no more words spill out of the wizard, “And then what?”

Caleb draws in a breath and squares his shoulders, jaw jutting out like Fjord’s seen Beau do hundreds of times, “You’ll have to come back to find out.”

His chest clenches and his heart thuds and Fjord laughs, smothering the sound in Caleb’s hair, laughing harder at the indignant sound Caleb muffles against his shoulder. He calms quickly though, buffing a kiss along Caleb’s temple, “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Gut,” Caleb pulls away, brushing his hands along the lines of Fjord’s shoulders, like he’s straightening out his shirt, but his nails bite to the skin briefly through the fabric, “You should finish getting ready.”

Fjord nods, “I should.”

There’s a minute, where he thinks Caleb isn’t going to move, but the wizard withdraws his hands and offers him a crooked, small smile, “Beau’s probably bored of scaring everyone away from the stables,” he says, then turns, stepping for the doors. He pauses a few feet from the exit, “I will see you when you return.”

“You will.”

\------

_Caleb,_

_When this letter reaches you, we will have left port. If the weather holds, we’ll be closing in on the enemy fleet soon._

_I’ve done this before, you know? Not war specifically, but fought on the water. One ship against three, one against one. I shouldn’t be scared, but I am._

_I’ve never had anything I was afraid to lose._

_I’m not going to make any promises, because I’m not sure I could keep any of them, but I wanted you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to make it back to you._

_I told you once about my cabin by the sea, I’d love to take you there. If I survive this, I think I’ll have earned a break._

_You earned a break months ago._

_Don’t worry yourself too much and don’t get too mad at Beau, I asked her to keep an eye on you._

_I love you._

_Fjord_

\------

The sun is beating down on them when they return to port.

Those weeks have felt like years and no one begrudges anyone of their tears at the sight of the coast on the horizon. They didn’t lose as many ships as they thought they would, but the losses aren’t any less significant for it. Fjord still feels the weight of them on his shoulders, in the scrolls tucked in the pocket of his coat as the crew scrambles to get them lined up at the docks.

Every one of them is eager to be back and he is no stranger to the feeling.

As soon as they’re tied down, anchor dropped, in no danger of the ship floating itself back to sea, Fjord shouts, “Go! Everyone get off the damn ship!”

No one dares second guess him. It’s a mad dash down the planks and whatever dockhands are there, dart out of the way, clearing a path for sailors in a hurry for land.

Fjord is the last one off.

They’re the first ship to make it back. Flag ship, fastest ship, and a crew eager to work themselves over if it meant making it back sooner.

He grabs one of the deckhands by the scruff, a meager looking kid who looks like he’s about to wet himself, “Hey, easy kid, you know who the boss is around here?”

The kid’s throat works a few times before he nods and jerks his thumb towards the dock house.

Fjord nods, “Good. You tell your boss that the rest of the fleet will be back soon, including two medical ships.”

A nod.

“Good, here,” he claps a handful of gold coins into the kid’s hand before releasing him. He watches the kid all the way to the dock house, before he makes his way for actual solid land himself.

Most of the sailors have scattered, looking for food or a place to sleep or the fastest way back home, he’s sure. He should probably round them all up, debrief or something official, but they’ve talked enough on the trip home. They were successful and that’s what matters.

It doesn’t take him long to get himself a horse, especially when he throws his weight around a little. Commander and Advisor go a long way in a port town that was just saved by the Navy sailing out.

He doesn’t bother trying to get a room for the night, gets himself a meal, and then gets on the horse.

\------

The portcullis is open when Fjord makes it to the keep and he rides right in. He hadn’t sent word, though he realizes he should have when he trots the horse to the stables. One of the stable hands nearly falls off the fencing he’s sitting on, “Commander! You’re back!”

Fjord swings off the horse, boots hitting the ground hard, “Has word not made it to the keep?”

The boy shakes his head so hard he nearly tilts himself over again, before he drops down and comes to take the horse, “Don’t think so, but I don’t hear much here. Last I heard, we’d lost another two ships.”

Rubbing his jaw, Fjord frowns, “That was over a week ago,” he shakes his head, waves his hand, “See to the horse for me.”

The boy nods, already leading the horse into the stables proper.

Fjord turns to the keep and starts walking, heading straight for the war room.

\------

Communication lines had broken down somewhere in the process and there’s not a soul that sees him in the keep that doesn’t seem shocked. The way word travels in the keep though, Fjord thinks that news will make it to the war room before he does.

He’s not wrong.

He’s turning the hall to the war room when someone barrels into him, “Whoa!”

“Fjord, you mother fucker!” Beau punches him in the shoulder. Hard.

He rears back on his heels with a hiss, curling his opposite arm over the area, “Fuck, Beau, ow,” he snarls at her, “I got shot.”

“You what?”

Fjord looks passed her and there stands Caleb, hair an absolute mess, the darkest of circles under his eyes, a pen tucked behind one ear. Really, he’s not sure if the tears that well up are from pain or because Caleb still manages to be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Beau makes a wretching noise and Fjord ignores her.

“Hey,” he finally manages, after gaping at Caleb like an idiot for too long.

Caleb laughs, disbelieving, then starts moving, stalking closer quickly, “Hey, he says,” Caleb starts, “No word for two weeks, we all thought he was dead, and all he’s got is ‘hey’,” and then slams into his front.

Fjord curls around him, uncaring of whatever audience they’ve gathered, “We sent word, I promise,” he mumbles into Caleb’s hair, because that’s important, “I should have sent word when we made land,” he adds, because that’s also important.

“Damn right, you should have,” Beau grumbles and Fjord makes a sweep for her, trying to drag her into the hug as well but she dances away with a scoff. Her eyes are wet, but he doesn’t call her on it, instead wrapping his arm back around Caleb.

There’s sniffling from the vague direction of his chest, but he doesn’t call Caleb on that either.

Caleb rocks back eventually, cheeks wet and eyes red, “You were shot?”

Nodding, Fjord hums softly, “It tore through my shoulder, nothing too terrible,” he explains and lets himself be checked over by Caleb.

“Get a room,” Beau grouses, turning away from them.

“I plan to,” Caleb tells her and she fake wretches.

\------

Contrary to Caleb’s words, they don’t get the chance to find a room. There’s official nonsense to be done, even if Fjord’s dead tired and ready for a proper bed and proper meal. He has to give an official report on what happened at sea, on the state of the fleet, the state of the men, the state of the war.

It’s all tedious and awful, but Caleb stays with him the entire time, some point of contact between them for all of it.

Eventually, when Fjord is falling asleep sitting up, he’s giving the all clear to rest.

There will still be work to do for the next while, but for now, for the night, he can just be.

Caleb is the one to lead them this time, through the twisting halls of the keep, all the way to his quarters. Fjord can’t even think to summon the energy to protest, much less the desire to protest, instead lets himself be herded and shuffled until the back of his knees hit the bed and then his ass does.

“Fjord, are you with me?”

He hums his affirmative, resting his hands on Caleb’s hips and digging his chin into Caleb’s stomach, peering up at the wizard, “M’here.”

“Gut, lets get you into bed.”

A gentle snap of Caleb’s fingers and several candles around the room light. Fjord lets himself be moved and guided by gentle touches, quiet as Caleb helps him peel out of his shirt and as Caleb wordlessly fusses over his bandaged shoulder.

Still no words when Caleb sinks to his knees and sets about removing Fjord’s boots or the nudge to his hip that has him lifting up so his breeches can be removed as well.

Nothing comes to him until Caleb’s pulls away from the bed out of his range, and Fjord lifts his hand, holding it out to him, “Caleb.”

“Sh, liebling, I’m not leaving,” Caleb steps back into range, his hip hitting Fjord’s palm, so he cups it, drawing the wizard to him. The smile on Caleb’s lips is very small and very fond. He doesn’t try to step back again though, seemingly unperturbed about being kept in tight quarters.

Fjord watches him through heavy lidded eyes, the candle light making Caleb’s hair look like fire, especially when he drops his robes and pulls his own tunic up and off. There’s no hesitation in Fjord when he tips forward and presses a kiss to Caleb’s sternum, only pausing to nudge his head back into the hands that slide through his hair. He doesn’t say anything, smudging another kiss to Caleb’s chest, then another and another, following nonsensical patterns and constellations of freckles.

He presses a kiss to one of the twin scars across Caleb’s chest, breathing out quietly when Caleb inhales sharply above him. The fingers in his hair tighten into a grip, but don’t pull him away so he gently scrapes the blunt points of his tusks over the same scar, before nuzzling his face against Caleb’s belly.

If he were allowed to, Fjord thinks he could fall asleep just like this, but Caleb’s hands slide from his hair to cup his jaw, tipping his head back so their gazes meet. Caleb’s eyes are very dark and his cheeks are a little pink, “Rest, liebling,” he says, voice gruff, “You can touch as much as you’d like after you’ve gotten some rest,” then he slides his hand down to Fjord’s uninjured shoulder and shoves.

Fjord goes with the motion, sprawling back on the bed, and any remaining tension he’d been holding vaporizes into nothing when Caleb joins him. “Caleb,” he says quietly, voice nothing but a low rumble and lifts his arm up in askance.

The wizard offers him a smile, something small that sends warmth all the way to Fjord’s toes. He doesn’t say anything, tucking himself along Fjord’s side, curled in towards him with an arm slung over his middle.

It’s better than Fjord ever imagined it would be.

“I knew you would come back,” Caleb says quietly, lips pressed to the side of Fjord’s chest, then lifts his hand and snaps once, extinguishing the candles around the room.

Fjord smiles, “I had a good reason to.”

**Author's Note:**

> i’ll probably write a second part to this, like fjord taking caleb to his cabin ~~and having his way with him~~.
> 
> find me on tumblr or twitter.


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